


How your body responds to me

by sharkinterviewee



Series: Starmora smut-shots [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Love, Oral Sex, Past Non-Con, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Smut, Softness, Support, Vaginal Sex, Vaguely referenced/implied past trauma, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 00:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16544957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkinterviewee/pseuds/sharkinterviewee
Summary: “You do know you’re picking those up later, don’t you?” Gamora raised her eyebrow as she moved towards him, stepping over the clothes that he had so carelessly tossed onto the floor.“Don’t I always?” Peter asked, stroking his beard in a mock philosophical manner.“No, usually you leave them lying on the floor for yourself to trip on in the middle of the night.”-Whether it was one of those days when they were both just utter desire, rough and taking what they wanted from each other, biting and growling and fucking. Or one of those days that were all care, gentle whispers of sweet nothings, tracing loving lines into sensitive flesh with diligent tongues, kissing the palms of hands, murmuring praises with every brush of their lips. His hands were always so warm.-“Are you okay?” She asked again, carefully approaching this time. He didn't shy away from her.Peter nodded. “I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to- to do that.”-“You've never told me that before,” she pointed out.“Well, I have a lot happier memories to tell you about,” Peter said, grabbing her hand and playing with her fingers almost as a way to distract himself.





	How your body responds to me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is about two adults in a healthy, supportive, loving relationship, but there are vague/indirect references to past non-con, so I’m putting a bit of a trigger warning here for this fic about two sweethearts with healthy communication being emotionally supportive of past experiences and having happy sex full of love.

“Gamora!” Peter whined, like she wasn’t standing just a few feet away from him and she wasn’t coming over to him in just a second. She would call his puppy dog look cute and innocent, except the fact that he’s waiting for her on their bed, completely naked and fully erect really ruins any description of innocent. Though the grin that’s just begging to be brought out from his pouting lips was definitely adorable.

Gamora rolled her eyes, pulling off her shirt and depositing it in the laundry basket because he was whining about her taking too long to undress.

“You’re so impatient,” she said, not even bothering to hide the thrill of it in her tone, because honestly, she loved how much he always wanted her. Even though it was often met with some playful teasing and a fond shake of the head and a muttered _patience, Starlord_ as she rolled her eyes in amusement.

“Psh, you know you love it,” Peter called her on it unceremoniously, though he seemed to stop having thoughts about complaining now that her shirt was off. As she slid off her pants and her undergarments followed suit, he appeared to be downright enjoying watching her undress.

“You do know you’re picking those up later, don’t you?” Gamora raised her eyebrow as she moved towards him, stepping over the clothes that he had so carelessly tossed onto the floor. He always managed to scatter his clothes about the room (to be fair, sometimes she was the one undressing him, and throwing _his_ clothes off and anywhere in their room that wasn’t on him). But most of the time Gamora was sensible and managed to deposit every article of clothing in the laundry basket by the dresser before joining him for 'bedroom activities’, tonight included.

“Don’t I always?” Peter asked, stroking his beard in a mock philosophical manner. It was clearly supposed to be a rhetorical question, but she didn’t give him that.

“No, usually you leave them lying on the floor for yourself to trip on in the middle of the night.”

Peter was about to protest the undoubtedly truthful accusation, but before he could open his mouth, she covered it with her own, wrapping her arms around his neck and situating herself right in his lap.

Peter moaned, his hands moving to her upper back in an automatic move to support her and pull her into him. His hands were always so warm. She loved how they could be so reverent on her skin, mapping out her body with his touch, barely grazing her with gun calloused fingers like she was an ethereal being who couldn’t be touched by mere mortals- like he couldn’t believe she existed, that if he held on too tight she would disappear, so his hands were nothing but a whisper tracing across her skin. She loved how they could be so solid and firm, so physically there, an undeniable anchor to the here and now, how his hands could be a driving force, a push and pull, rough and wanting- wanting her so very badly. But most of all, she loved how he wasn’t afraid to reach out and touch her. Whether it was one of those days when they were both just utter desire, rough and taking what they wanted from each other, biting and growling and fucking. Or when it was one of those days that were all care, gentle whispers of sweet nothings, tracing loving lines into sensitive flesh with diligent tongues, kissing the palms of hands, murmuring praises with every brush of their lips. His hands were never afraid to touch her.

Most people didn’t flirt with assassins (at least not on purpose). Most people did not try to hug trained, ruthless killers. Most people hesitated before they reached out to her. Most people didn’t try touch her at all- they tried to stay as far away from her as possible, physically and, well, socially. Emotionally. Guilty by association or something like that. Even the people who did come into contact with Gamora- they were always uncomfortable just being near her (admittedly, some of that was on purpose on her part). But still. Most people didn’t try to _consistently_ flirt with assassins long after learning what her profession was. Most people didn’t try to hug and smile so warmly at trained killers.

Most people were uncomfortable just being in her general proximity, and most people avoided touching her. Most people didn’t try to hold her hand. _Ever_.

Peter Quill was not like most people.

Whether they were being soft and sweet, or hard and fast, Peter was never afraid to touch her, and his hands were always warm.

Gamora deepened the kiss with a hum of satisfaction and appreciation at his taste, how he was ready and waiting for her, twisting her hands in his hair and tugging ever so slightly _just_ the way he liked it. Peter groaned as their tongues met, or maybe it was the meeting of their hips that elicited the sound. Gamora rocked forward a little more forcefully this time, pressing forward rather than just incidental shifting like a moment ago and got a very similar yet much more visceral sound from him for her efforts. She smiled against his lips. Yup, definitely hips.

His fingers were still splayed out on her upper back as he kissed her _thoroughly,_ and Gamora leaned back just a bit, away from him, ever so slightly while maintaining their lip lock just to feel the resistance from his hands.

It was a reassuring pressure at her back, a reminder of his support, that his hands were there to keep her from toppling over (not gonna lie, that has happened more than a few times in their bedroom, but in every single case it was _Peter_ falling off the bed).

Gamora nibbled on his bottom lip, giving it a suck before she moved to his ear to whisper “Lay down for me, Peter,” in her sultriest voice.

Peter obeyed nigh immediately, nodding so eagerly that she had to chuckle. She caught the twinkle in his eye at making her laugh, and it made her heart soar.

Gamora clambered over him, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders, a part of his body she was very appreciative of. Strong and broad, leading to the loveliest clavicle, Gamora thought as she sucked on his collarbone, noting with pride at the way his breath hitched and his Adams apple bobbed. She ghosted her lips up his throat, over his, but the second he lifted his head to close the gap, she pulled away, just out of reach.

“Teasing,” Peter said, though she wasn’t sure if if was a statement of fact or a complaint. Maybe both.

“That’s the point, Starlord-”

“So fucking not fair,” he hissed under his breath at the use of his outlaw name (his one weakness, he liked to say. She liked to point out he had many weaknesses and she knew hundreds of ways to make him moan and beg for release).

“Get you all desperate,” she continued, ignoring his interruption.

“I’m already desperate,” Peter whined, his hands running down the length of her body to grip her hips and rubbed up against her, just to prove how desperate he was, or at least get some pressure and friction going. He was so hard already. That’s always what her teasing did to him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she tsked, like he broke a rule, grabbing his hands and holding them up, interlacing their fingers together.

“Maybe it’s just to torture you,” she said, dipping down and biting at his throat, and Peter’s hips bucked up into hers.

“You’re so evil,” he groaned, but this time, it was definitely praise.

“I thought you already knew that.” Gamora licked up and down his throat, over the bite she’d just made, feeling his pulse throb underneath his skin. She gave him a few sharp nips, making him squirm. He was so easy to drive wild.

While their fingers were interwoven, she soon changed that, moving his hands above his head before pinning him down by the wrists.

She smirked against his skin, sucking lightly at the base of his throat before moving back to his collarbone, because she loved it so, and started peppering kisses and bites along his flesh in-

“D-Don’t!” Peter suddenly choked out, and barely at that, sounding genuinely panicked.

Gamora looked up, concerned by how alarmed he sounded. When she saw his expression she knew that something was very, very wrong, but she had no idea what went wrong or what was even happening.

Everything was fine a moment ago, and now Peter had genuine panic on his face and she didn’t know what she did or what had caused it. He had been smiling a second ago.

“Peter?”

His breathing was heavy, but not in the fun, sexy panting way. In the genuinely struggling to get in air way. Gamora completely froze, too worried to risk moving when she didn’t know what had caused this reaction, and she hadn’t figured out how to fix it.

“Don’t, just, please don’t, I- let go!” Peter ripped his wrists out of her grasp.

As soon as he got his wrists to himself Peter sat up and scrambled backwards, pushing himself away until he reached the other end of the bed and his back hit the wall. Their honey colored sheets went with him, spilling over his bare legs as he tried to calm his panicked breathing.

With his back pressed against the wall, Peter pulled his legs up and curled inwards, holding himself in a defensive posture made of sharp, jutting angles.

It looked like he might have been holding his wrist, but she soon realized no, he wasn’t even touching it.

Peter was holding his arm-cradling it to his chest almost like she had broken his wrist, like it hurt for anything to touch it, even himself, but it still needed to be protected from further damage. Both of his wrists, actually. His limbs were bent all crooked, tucked in behind his legs to shield his hands and wrists from any impending blows. But she… she hadn’t held him that tight. She hadn’t held him tight at all. She could tell that’s what his makeshift defense position was supposed to protect, though. His wrists. And even though he had pulled in on himself, and become a jumble of criss crossing angles, he was still avoiding touching them or even brushing his wrists up against other parts of his body. It didn’t make sense that they could have been injured, but that’s certainly what his reaction looked like.

She didn’t even squeeze. She only held his wrists. She didn’t know how Peter had gotten hurt.

Gamora sat up on her knees, watching him in concern from the other end of the bed.

By sitting up Peter had pushed himself away from her, towards the opposite end, and now he was curled in on himself, and he looked… scared.

Gamora wanted to reach out to him, wrap her arms around him, but she was pretty sure that would have the opposite effect of comforting right now.

She still didn’t know what happened.

So she stayed where she was, stayed still, and watched him.

Eventually his breathing started to slow, and his body lost some of the tension it was carrying. Not back to normal, but he seemed to have calmed down at least a bit.

“Are you okay?” Gamora ventured carefully.

Peter’s head shot up, like he had forgotten she was there until she spoke.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Peter just utterly deflated, hanging his head and running his hand through his hair. “That was weird. I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m sorry, G'mora.” He focused on the bed spread in front of him instead of her eyes, and he sounded so… defeated.

“Are you okay?” She asked again, carefully approaching this time. He didn’t shy away from her.

Peter nodded. “I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to- to do that.”

Gamora moved closer to him, reaching out. She hesitated just before placing her hand on his shoulder though, because before Peter seemed- he seemed like he was afraid of her touch. Like he was scared. Still, she carefully laid her hand on his shoulder, and Peter slumped further into her touch.

She started rubbing his shoulder and upper back as he leaned into her. The rise and fall of his breathing was still too dramatic to be normal.

“What happened?” Gamora asked softly, gently.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, curling in on himself and curling into her at the same time.

“Peter, you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she reassured him, keeping up the warm circular movement of her hand. “I’m just… trying to understand.”

Peter didn’t say anything for a long while. She didn’t push him or prompt him for more answers. She was still confused and worried, but the danger of it seemed to have passed, so she didn’t press him for a response. Gamora still didn’t know what happened, but he clearly needed comfort and safety, and help calming down. And it was pretty clear he needed this silence too. If he wasn’t willing to speak, then she would rub his back in the quiet and just hold him. So that’s what she did.

Even after his breath returned to a regular rhythm, it still took some time before he finally spoke.

“I just…” he curled in on himself even further. “Please don’t hold me down like that,” he said quietly, almost whispering, his voice so soft she could barely hear him.

Gamora nodded, stroking his hair. “Okay, Peter. I won’t. It’s alright. It’s okay now, you’re okay,” she told him, kissing the top of his head. Peter sighed in relief, a much deeper dread seeping out of him as he stayed still in her arms.

* * *

Gamora knew she had pinned him down by the wrists before, many times when they were sparring or had otherwise tackled him to the ground and kept him there.

She’d seen Peter have his wrists pinned by others too, be it during a fight or to keep him from starting one.

He’d never reacted like that before.

Peter’s never reacted like that when Gamora’s pinned him down by the wrists before.

Of course, all those times before when he was fine with it, those were during fights or just roughhousing and playing around.

She’s playfully pinned Peter down by the wrists before, and he’d never reacted like that.

But all those previous situations were in a different context.

This was the first time she’d pinned Peter’s wrists in a sexual context, and he freaked the fuck out (to use one of his Terran terminologies).

He’d also never tried to get away from her like that. Certainly not when they were having sex. He’d never acted… afraid of her touch before.

* * *

Gamora wasn’t ignorant as to why that might be.

* * *

Peter kept sending her looks the next day. Like he was just waiting for her to mention it, for her to bring up a talk that he was dreading.

After anxiously waiting for her to comment on it or bring up what happened, when she didn’t, he had to talk to her about it that night, for the sake of his sanity.

* * *

“Listen, about last night,” Peter started, blowing out air in an attempt to calm himself, or prolong him finishing that thought, getting to the next part of his sentence that he’d barely even started. “Like I’m pretty sure you’ve already figured it out, but there are… things… that’ve happened, and-”

“Peter,” she placed her hand on his arm, and he looked so incredibly thankful for the interruption. Grateful that he wouldn’t have to finish what he had been saying.

Gamora started rubbing his arm up and down, slow and reassuring. “I can put two and two together. That there may be instances in your past that would lead you to be very uncomfortable with having your wrists held down in sexual contexts. I understand certain situations may remind someone of unwanted experiences that happened to them. Is that what you wished to tell me?”

Peter froze at first, stiffening up, then nodded in response.

“Okay,” she said, smiling at him, soft and reassuring.

Peter nervously smiled back, looking very relieved he didn’t have to spell it out.

Then, Gamora bit her lip, looking much more uncertain of herself than he’d ever seen her. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was caught between asking a question she wasn’t sure she should be asking or not saying anything at all. There was clearly something on her mind.

“What?” He asked, eyebrows creasing in concern at her expression, how she was worrying her lip, looking like she felt bad.

She wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it, put it into words, but she tried.

“I just… I didn’t know that until now. You’ve never told me that before. That that has happened to you. Have I ever… done something before? During sex? That has reminded you? Or made you uncomfortable? Is there a… a reason you’ve never told me before?”

She understood that it wasn’t a pleasant subject for him, and that he wouldn’t want to think about it or talk on it for any amount of time more than he had to. But she… she wanted to make sure. That the reason he hadn’t said something before was because he (understandably) preferred not to speak on the subject or focus on it any more than necessary, not that he didn’t feel like he could tell her, or that she had been emotionally unavailable or something. She wanted to make sure that it wasn’t some kind of communication problem, that she had led him to be uncomfortable talking to her about it. She always wanted Peter to feel safe, and wanted him to feel safe talking to her about anything too.

Peter actually smiled, shaking his head at her because of course that’s what she was worried about. That she had done something wrong or made a mistake, when Gamora was literally the most supportive person in his life. She was always there for him. And of course she was worried that she had done something wrong that made him feel like she wouldn’t be there for him, when she was the best person he knew, and his favorite person in the whole Galaxy. Peter could always count on her, and he knew that.

“Not in the slightest, I promise. No, it just, it usually doesn’t come up that often. And, you know, well, I have a lot happier memories to tell you about.”

* * *

It seemed like everything was fine after that light little comforting conversation. Now it was all good. Done subject, back to normal.

But it came up again less than a week later.

* * *

While they were having sex, because of course it was.

After she’d come from his faithful fingers and mouth, she had told him to come over to the side of the bed before nestling between his legs and sinking her mouth down on his cock. Peter had his hands loosely balled up in her hair, and tilted his head back in pure ecstasy.

“Ga-… oh fuck, Gamora,” he moaned, and Gamora appreciated the view of his throat contracting, watching his adam’s apple bob, his chest flushed and heaving. He let out this weak, helpless noise as she massaged the underside of his cock with her tongue, moving her hand to fondle his balls and really make him come apart.

Peter started weakly thrusting into her mouth, and she liked him like this- when he lost control. Peter looked so pretty when he was giving up control like this.

Gamora gave him one last pump, taking him to the back of her throat and making him choke before she pulled off completely. Peter actually whined, looking at her with the most desperate expression he had.

“I want you inside me,” she shrugged in explanation, a little impish grin pulling across her face.

Peter nodded eagerly, flopping over onto his back so she could ride him. But she paused, hesitating as she stood at the edge of the bed.

Peter looked back up at her when he realized that he was missing a very sexy Zehoberei on top of him at the moment. Instead, she was just standing there, looking suddenly very uncertain. Almost worried.

He was about to ask her what was wrong when he realized there was concern layered in her gaze as she looked over him, nibbling on her lip and shifting on her feet like she wasn’t sure what to do or not, what was okay for her to do or not, when he realized.

That this was because of the other night.

Never mind the hundred times she’d topped him before and ridden the hell out of him and it’d been freaking amazing all around, after the new information the other night, after he’d tried to get away from her after she had climbed over him, after he’d pulled in on himself after Gamora had held her body over his- now she was worried about making him uncomfortable just by getting on top of him.

And she clearly didn’t want to mention it either, probably afraid he’d be upset with her suddenly treating him like glass when he was the same Peter Quill that she fucked the life out of all out rough the week before and it was amazing then.

When she couldn’t help but be worried about him. Because she loved him.

And he got it, he really did. Hell, he probably freaked her out more the other night than she did him.

He noticed that she had been avoiding grabbing him that night also, keeping her grasp firmly on his hips or torso, only wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck or curling them in his hair, never around his arm or grabbing his hand. At most she only brushed her fingertips over his wrist that night, a soft and reassuring, loving touch.

She hadn’t held his arm, hand, or wrist though. Didn’t wrap her fingers around or grab his arm or hand to lead him to where she wanted him to touch her like she usually did.

Peter sighed.

“C’mere babe,” he said softly, holding out his hand to her. Once she took it, he unceremoniously pulled Gamora right on top of him, and she landed on him with an undignified noise of surprise that made him laugh. She gave him a pouty look at the amusement on his face that was clearly at her expense.

So, to make up for it, Peter wrapped his hands around her head, leaning up and guiding her down to meet his lips. Joining together in a soft, languid kiss, and he felt her body relax over him.

He gave her bottom lip a soft nibble before pulling back. “I like having you over me,” Peter assured her, smiling. “When you’re on top. Covering me. I like it. And I like it when you grab my wrist and drag me to where you want me to touch you. I think it’s really hot,” he said, his hand moving between her legs that were straddling his stomach so invitingly, spread over him, her arousal coating his skin with every shift of her hips. He dragged his touch between her thighs, fingering her clit all light and playful as he smiled up at her. “Okay?” He asked, picking up speed.

Gamora nodded, eyes shut, eyebrows pulling together. “O-okay,” she whimpered, squeezing his shoulder and rubbing herself on his abs as he teased her clit.

* * *

Gamora lined him up with her entrance and slowly lowered herself on him, and Peter groaned at the sensation of being enveloped in her wet heat.

She felt so good. His hips bucked up of their own accord, and Gamora hissed at his sharp jerk.

“Sorry,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to stay still so she could adjust at her own pace.

“No, fuck, Peter, do that again,” she told him, the hand that she had splayed on his chest for balance tightening.

He was surprised for a moment. Oh. So that was a pleasure hiss.

Soon, he repeated the motion, maybe even harder this time, and Gamora let out a sound that made his balls churn. And then Peter was just grabbing onto her hips and pulling her down as he fucked up into her, Gamora squeezing his shoulder and fucking mewling as she rode his cock.

It didn’t take long.

Before he was driving into her full force, burying himself inside her and releasing spurts of hot cum deep, deep in Gamora’s pussy as her inner walls fluttered around him, taking him for all he was worth.

They didn’t even bother disentangling after that.

No, Gamora just slumped over him, panting, and Peter wrapped both of his arms around her, just holding her as they were covered in sweat and coming down together.

* * *

As much as Peter loved spooning with Gamora, he’d probably have to say that this both facing each other cuddling position had to be his favorite. It was the best for after sex snuggles and pillow talking it up.

“See?” Peter smiled at the woman laying beside him, gently tucking the hair behind her ear. “No need to be concerned. That was fucking awesome. As per the usual,” he said with a wink. He was trying to make her laugh, but she didn’t go for it.

Gamora frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to-”

“I know,” he interrupted her, because he did. He really did. “It’s fine. Doesn’t like bother me or anything, so you can stop looking so guilty about it. And it’s kinda nice,” he admitted, eyes straying down to her neckline, focusing on following the path his fingers took tracing her clavicle rather than look her in the eye during this moment of overwhelming sincerity from him. “Totally unnecessary,” he added quickly, almost nervously, licking his lips. “But I mean, I like that you care about me. And, to be honest, you being a slightly bit overkill with the concern is probably preferable to you just not giving a shit,” Peter shrugged. “So, I mean, it’s fine. I care about what happens to you too. What’s happened to you. And I like that you care about me. So. Yeah.”

“I _love_ you,” Gamora said fervently, like she was correcting him. Like she just _had_ to correct him cause Peter had just said she cared about him too many times when he should’ve been saying she loved him.

Peter nuzzled into her neck, grinning. “I know. I love you too. So, so much.”


End file.
